Iacobus by Matilde Asensi Page B

coming from. An old, misshapen and hunchbacked man, about sixty years old, was attacking the remains of a trunk with little luck. He looked tired and sweaty and by the cerulean hue of his skin, it didn’t look like he had much time left on this earth. A huge wet patch stood out on the crotch of his trousers, revealing a urinary incontinence that my nose warned me of before I’d even dismounted. Upon seeing us arrive, he straightened as much as his hump would allow and looked at us suspiciously.
    “What are you doing in these parts?” he snapped at us abruptly with a rude, rough voice.
    “Strange greeting, brother!” I exclaimed. “We are good men who have unwittingly gone astray, and hearing your axe, we thought that we had found salvation.”
    “Well, you’re wrong!” he growled, returning to his task.
    “Brother, please, we will pay you well. Tell me, how do we get out of this forest? We want to get back to Paris.”
    He raised his head and I could see a new expression on his face.
    “How much will you pay?”
    “How about about three gold escudos?” I proposed, knowing how exaggerated an offer it was. I wanted to seem desperate.
    “Why not five?” bartered the crook.
    “O.K., brother, we will give you ten, ten gold escudos but for that money we also want some wine. We are thirsty and tired after going around in so many circles.
    The shady man’s little eyes shone like glass beads under the sunlight. He would have died of disappointment had he found out that I was willing to go up to twenty escudos but his greed had betrayed him.
    “Give me the gold,” he demanded, holding out his hand. “Give me the gold.”
    I approached him on my horse and bent down to drop the escudos into his black hand, which he grasped avidly.
    “If you go back the way you came, always following the path on the right, you will get to the Noyon road.”
    “Thank you, brother. And the wine?”
    “Ah, yes! You see, I don’t have any here but if you carry on a mile in that direction,” he said, pointing north, “you will see my house. Tell my wife that I sent you. She will take care of you.”
    “May God bless you, brother.”
    “You have already blessed me, sir.”
    “Why were you so polite to a common servant?” asked Jonas as soon as we were out of earshot. “That man is a slave, even though he is a slave of the King, as well as a thief.”
    “I am not in favor of establishing differences because of the way people were born to this earth, Jonas. Our Lord Jesus was the son of a carpenter and most of his apostles were no more than humble fishermen. The only possible inequality between men is their kindness and intelligence, although I must admit that in this case, neither were apparent.”
    “So?”
    “If I had have treated him with the insolence he deserves, he would have taken the ten escudos just the same but we wouldn’t be on our way to his house. Luck is on our side, Jonas. Don’t forget that a woman, however rude she may be, and especially if she has spent her life shut away in a hovel in the middle of a forest, is always friendlier and more open to conversation.”
    We found the owner sitting at the door of the hut, sprawled on a chair made from straw and wood, drinking from a jug. The cabin was squalid, miserable, filthy and dirty, just like the owner, a woman who at some point, although it seems impossible, must have had teeth and hair. I saw the look of disgust on Jonas’ face and thought that, like him, I would rather get away from there as fast as possible. But she, or anyone else like her who lived in the area, had to give me the information I needed.
    “May the peace of God be with you, ma’am!” I shouted as we approached.
    “What do you want?” she asked, without a flicker of emotion.
    “Your husband sent us. We paid him ten gold escudos for you to give us a little wine before continuing on our way to Paris.”
    “Well, get down from your horses and help yourselves, there’s a jug right